


honey i shrunk [the] hamid

by escherzo



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Clit Fucking, Crack As Flimsy Justification For Porn, F/M, Grinding, Macro/Micro, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escherzo/pseuds/escherzo
Summary: “He's smaller?” Azu asks, frowning“He may be... slightly reduced in size! Which would be fine, it doesn't last very long, only it's, uh, been about twice as long as it's supposed to take to wear off and it doesn't look like it's actually wearing off. So. That might be a slight problem."
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Azu
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	honey i shrunk [the] hamid

**Author's Note:**

> here's a fun fact: halflings, as mechanically Small creatures, become Tiny if Reduce Person'd. Which means Hamid, who already is only thirty some pounds, gets that divided by 8. :) 
> 
> anyway as usual I blame Rome ♥

“Uh, Azu?” Cel calls, and there's something about their tone that makes Azu snap her head up immediately. Their hair is faintly singed and standing entirely on end, which is normal, but the frantic wringing of their hands together seems more like a response to an actual problem than baseline anxiety for once, and they keep biting their lip and opening their mouth like they mean to start speaking but can't quite figure out how to start, and that is _thoroughly_ not normal.

“Cel?” Azu asks, sitting up from bed all at once. It's late evening, but not so late that she was asleep; she's been absentmindedly picking her way through one of Zolf's novels, snuggled up in her bunk and enjoying, for once, what was shaping up to be a quiet night on the airship. Probably not so quiet now, though.

“It's just, well, you know, I was teaching the kobolds how to make some of my potions, and normally that's fine! Mild explosions sometimes, and the last one I drank gave me one shark fin and nothing else, which was a bit inconvenient, but otherwise fine, and mostly they just give me indigestion or turn the kobolds' claws funny colors for a moment, and--”

“Cel,” Azu says, resting a firm hand on their shoulder. “Breathe.”

“I'm breathing! Definitely breathing,” Cel says, although the sheer amount of energy vibrating through them makes that a slightly more dubious statement than usual. “It's just that, well, so Hamid came in for a brief moment—I think maybe he was wanting to talk to Skraak? I don't know, but he was, um, he may have been nearby when we were trying one of the new concoctions? Sassra wanted to learn how to do it, and it's a trickier one, and I keep telling them they have to triple-check the formulas because you get one pinch of sulfur wrong and suddenly your protection from fire is lava-breathing, which seems kind of useless as a potion, all things considered, but--” 

“Cel,” Azu says. She keeps her voice soft. Reassuring. She tries not to let it shake as she thinks about all of the potential things that one of Cel's experiments malfunctioning could have done to Hamid. “Is Hamid alright.”

“Oh! Yes! I mean. I mean he's not _hurt_ , or anything, he's just, well, it's one that makes you, um, smaller? And it's only supposed to work on the person who makes it, but apparently that didn't happen here, and it exploded a little, and so, he's, well--” 

“He's smaller?” Azu asks, frowning 

“He may be... slightly reduced in size! Which would be fine, it doesn't last very long, only it's, uh, been about twice as long as it's supposed to take to wear off and it doesn't look like it's actually wearing off. So. That might be a slight problem. I know Zolf is busy with—all of his, you know, first mate duties, and I didn't want to interrupt those, and you know he thinks it's really unsafe to be making these things on the ship in the first place, even though they hardly ever actually _explode_ , and so I was hoping you could come take a look and see if there's anything you can do, because I like Hamid, he's a great little buddy, only he's just. A _really_ little buddy right now.” 

Azu tries her best to steer Cel out the door of her room and down the hallway to Cel's lab as they babble on, occasionally flapping their hands like they do sometimes when they're very nervous or very excited. Hamid's fine, she tells herself, trying to take a deep breath. He's already smaller than everyone else, apart from the kobolds; if he's stuck being a little smaller than that for a while longer, it's not going to _hurt_ him. They'll just... have to be careful with him.

“How small is he?” Azu asks, cutting off Cel mid-ramble. For a long moment she thinks of being a child back at the village when her neighbor's cat had kittens, trying to step around them as they pawed at her feet and flopped over onto each other, terrified that she'd accidentally stumble and hurt them. 

“Well. Tiny? I think tiny is the word I would use. Maybe... two kilos?” Cel takes a moment to glance down at Azu's free hand, hanging down by her side. “He's bigger than your hand? Not a lot bigger than your hand. About half his height. Maybe less. Do you think I should measure it? I know it's supposed to just make you—well, for someone like me, it would make me Hamid's size, for Hamid he just, well, if you've ever seen those little pixies that sometimes come out and steal things when you sleep, he looks a bit like that? Without the dragonfly wings though.” 

Azu blinks. “I... have not,” she admits, and further thoughts of Hamid with dragonfly wings are cut off as she comes to the doorway of the lab and sees a cluster of kobolds all anxiously surrounding Hamid. She is very, very aware that right now, they are all looking _down_ at Hamid.

“Hi Azu!” Hamid's tiny voice pipes up from the floor. “I, um, there was a bit of a problem?” He looks down at his hands and then holds one out for inspection, and Sassra holds her claw up obligingly for reference. His hand is nearly half the size of hers now. “Oh, dear.” 

“Oh, Hamid,” Azu says, folding herself down to the floor beside the kobolds. Her first impulse, and one she is trying terribly hard to tamp down, is to be entirely derailed by how _cute_ he is like this. Focus, she tells herself. Right now Hamid needs her help. Even if his voice has raised to a squeak and he looks so small she could tuck him away in her pocket, all big eyes and warmth and tiny, tiny brass scales. His clothing puddles around him and the only reason it hasn't fallen off entirely is that he seems to have tied his cravat tighter in a bid to keep his shirt fastened at all. She _desperately_ wants to hug him. 

When she holds her arms out, he goes, burying his face in her middle, and she wraps her arms around him so, so carefully, so immediately aware of how much more fragile he is like this. His breaths are tiny and hitched; he sounds like he might be on the verge of tears, even as he nuzzles in a little further, looking up at her with his big eyes. She strokes one thumb down his back; she could cradle him in both hands like this. He doesn't seem _hurt_ , not in any way that she can fix, at least. 

“I... do not know that I have an idea of how to fix this,” she admits after a moment, as Hamid settles in properly against her, his tiny little hands balled in her shirt to steady himself. This isn't her area of expertise at all. “He isn't hurt.” 

“Ah,” Cel says after a pause, and shares a glance with the kobolds. “I could try to make a potion to enlarge him, but using those both together never works like you think it's going to, and if that only lasts the normal amount of time then he'll just be small again as soon as it wears off if it's a stronger effect, and--” 

“Cel,” Azu says gently, and cups Hamid's back with her palm, quietly marveling to herself at the way he fits in her hand now. “You can figure it out.” She puts all the warmth she can into it; Cel _will_. They've figured out stranger puzzles than this one, and as far as Azu is concerned, they're the best alchemist in the world. They'll fix this. 

“I hope so,” Hamid says against her chest. His voice is a bit wobbly, but he's settled, for the most part, wrapped up in the warmth of her, and all she wants to do is carry him back to her room and settle him down beside her on her pillow. Just to keep him in sight. 

“We stick together,” she tells him softly, the quiet mantra they repeat to each other in times of unpredictability, and he smiles up at her. “I can carry you in the meantime. Cel will figure this out.” 

She has never felt quite so conspicuously big as in this moment, as she lifts him up in carefully cupped hands, keeping him close to her chest as they make the slow walk back to her room. He doesn't struggle. He knows she won't let him fall. 

*

It doesn't wear off overnight. Azu wakes up to see Hamid asleep on her pillow, tiny fists balled into the pillowcase and his mouth hanging open, his snores gone high-pitched and squeaky. He is still only the size of her face. 

He really is terribly cute like this. She shouldn't be focusing on that, should be focusing on _helping_ him, but while he's still asleep, she can let herself look. His features, already delicate, are like a doll's now, and he's only wearing his shirt, and even buttoned up tight it still is a messy puddle of fabric around him. She could stroke over the curve of his belly with one finger. She could cradle him in the palm of her hand and just hold him close to her—she's letting her mind wander again. 

There are parts of this she will need to figure out. How to explain this to the others, how to make sure he's able to get around the ship without fear of being stepped on, making sure his meals are small enough that he can eat them. She has no idea how he would drink out of a glass right now unless they can get one of the tiny sake cups from Wilde. She tries to focus on these things. Tangible, useful steps to take. 

Part of her sends a mournful, pleading thought upwards at Aphrodite at how she cannot keep her mind off the rest. About how very, very little he is. She's always liked that he's smaller than her. That he doesn't even need to get on his knees to get his mouth on her, that she can lift him and move him how she likes, that it takes no effort at all to hold him down. Him being smaller still only intensifies it. 

They don't sleep together often; they only started after Rome, when it was only the two of them, alone and desperate, facing a world that had reshaped itself beyond anything they could recognize, and have had precious few moments to be truly alone since. But even in the between times, there is soft, easy affection. Good night kisses and good morning hugs and him curling up in her arms, safe and protected by the bulk of her. He doesn't drive her to distraction, normally; it's something gentler than that. An uncomplicated sort of love she's not sure she has the full shape of just yet. And yet--

He's distracting her now. 

“Azu?” Hamid asks, one eye cracking open, and she smiles down at him. Reaches out to softly stroke two fingers down his back, and he pushes back into the touch, a soft, contented little noise tumbling out of his mouth. 

“Good morning,” she says, and he props himself up on his elbow and leans over like he means to kiss her before realizing that her mouth is substantially further away than it usually is, and she cannot help but laugh at the look of absolute indignation he gives his body as it dawns on him. 

“You're still small,” she says gently, and scoops him up with her hands to bring him up to her mouth. He leans in and kisses her, soft and sweet, and only gets the very center of her mouth, and she can't help but smile against his lips. “We should tell the others.” 

He sighs, but nods as he pulls away. It's the sensible thing to do; if nothing else, the others need to know to look down further for him than usual so that they don't step on him. It's going to be a struggle. She cannot imagine how Earhart is going to react to this; she suspects Zolf will just sigh and give Cel and the kobolds the sort of patient, longsuffering look he seems to wear whenever anyone does something he finds exasperating but is too tired to comment on fully. 

“You could make bigger pockets on this coat,” Azu says as she lifts him up to settle him on her shoulder, and he wraps an arm around the back of her head and settles in, his head pressed to her ear. “So I could put you in them.” They've all made jokes about him being pocket-sized before; it's impossible to look at him and not, on some level, want to scoop him up and pocket him, and now it seems very doable in a way it didn't before. 

“I, I don't know how well I could sew like this,” he says, wobbling a little, and she reaches up with a hand to steady him. “But I could try.” 

“Mm,” she agrees, careful not to turn her head even though she wants to meet his eyes and smile at him. 

*

The crew takes it about as well as expected. It's about half jokes and half concerned looks, and Zolf doesn't say anything, just slowly lists forward until his forehead is resting against the nearest wall. Hamid hasn't been much use in keeping the ship running, past being able to keep watch, and his eyes still work as well as ever, so at least, it's not a threat to the mission, and that seems to help some. Zolf sets to work in adjusting one of the guide ropes until it can be tied off for someone of his size, and Azu tries not to think about how easy it would be for Hamid to blow away, with how light he is now. They're all going to have to be so careful with him.

He sits on the table when they take their meal, and even one of the sake cups is too big for him to drink normally; he is very flustered about it, but has to dip his whole head in and drink like a pet would, and she gets the sense that he would be much happier hiding out in the bunks indefinitely rather than having to do this where anyone else can see him, even as she whispers reassurances and breaks off little bits of her bread to hand over to him. She hopes this isn't permanent. Or that if it is, that someone in Svalbard makes clothes and dishes for dolls. She doesn't think that not being able to wear his normal clothes is helping him any. 

When they go back to their quarters, his face has been red for so long that she can't help but wonder if it's starting to hurt. He settles some once the door is closed, at least, and tightens the makeshift clothing that is tied around him in careful little knots; once upon a time, these were just his cravats, and the look is an odd one on him; it looks like ancient clothing, but he's trying his best to make it work.

“It will pass,” she says, and he flops down backwards onto her pillow with a deep sigh. 

“I know, I just, it's _hard_ ,” he says softly, and she settles herself carefully down beside him. 

“I know,” she says, and kisses him softly, keeping it light, somewhere in the back of her mind very aware that her mouth takes up nearly all of the bottom half of his face. “Cel will fix it.” 

*

Two days and several explosions later, Cel has not yet fixed it. Hamid is starting to settle in, at least, starting to make peace with his new size, and he spends a considerable amount of time on the ship, when not tucked in against Azu or riding on her shoulder, flying; he can tumble through the air so easily like this, a little streaking blur of color. That part, at least, he's enjoying.

He's still distracting all of her thoughts. She tries not to let herself dwell on that, but he still sleeps on her pillow next to her at night, and she keeps thinking about how easy it would be to hold him down like this. Would barely even need the pressure of one finger. She wants to carefully press him into the mattress and see how much of his body her tongue can cover at once, wants to curl her tongue around his tiny, stiff cock, wants to gather him up in one hand and just rub him against her; she looks over at him, his perfectly coiffed hair and little, fond smile, and wants to make an absolute mess of him. The low curl of heat in her belly when she lets her thoughts linger builds, until there is a buzzing under her skin she can't shake. Until she finds him underneath her in her dreams, too, and wakes up wet and aching in the middle of the night, her breath coming short.

Her hand moves so, so carefully downwards to ruck her nightgown up. He's still asleep on the pillow; she should get up and take care of this somewhere else. Any movement might wake him. But there is no real privacy elsewhere on this ship and so nowhere to go. She takes a deep breath and then another, sighing as her hand dips between her legs and spreads the wetness to slick up her clit, and she tries to keep her upper arm still as she slowly rubs at her clit, not jostle the bed too much, biting her lip hard to hold back the noises she wants to make. Her breath is coming short, so loud in her ears in the pitch-dark stillness of the room, and she shifts just slightly to tease a finger over her cunt, not quite dipping in, and all at once the soft, gentle snores of Hamid curled up next to her stop. She freezes.

“Azu?” Hamid asks, and she holds herself so, so very still, hoping beyond hope that the fact that he cannot see in the dark like she can will mean that if she closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep that he'll drift back off too. Instead, he curls closer, tucking himself along the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, and in the tense silence she can hear him sniff the air. 

“Oh,” he says softly, and her face burns with it. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, and he nestles in closer. She didn't mean to wake him; he needs the rest, and her inability to stop thinking about the tiny little shape of him shouldn't take that away from him. 

“I could help,” he says, and without even meaning to, she blurts out, “ _Please._ ” 

He mutters something under his breath, his hands forming careful, familiar shapes, and suddenly there are dim, gentle orbs of light above them, and she can see the way his face is slowly flushing as he takes in her state. Her hand frozen, fingers not quite tucked inside herself but close, her nightgown rucked up around her hips. The faint beads of sweat on her forehead. She wants to touch him so badly she aches with it. Something in her expression must get that across well enough; he makes short work of his makeshift clothing, undoing knots as he crawls down the bed and over her thighs until he is naked between her legs, and she is so grateful for it she could nearly sob. He kisses her hand and so she moves it, letting him settle in, and she wraps a hand around his back as he dips his head down to lick at her. 

His tongue is so small that it's nearly a tease; it feels good, sharp, shocky bursts of pleasure as he laps at her clit, but it's not enough, and she doesn't even realize she's doing it until it's already happened as she cups her hand around him more firmly and pushes her hips up against the whole of him. He shudders, squirming in her grip, but doesn't protest, doesn't make to pull away, and so she lifts him, just a little. Thumb wrapped around the soft give of his belly as she positions his whole front against her clit and presses him against it. He feels so good. So little, so warm, the soft give of his belly and his tiny panting mouth and the pinpricks of his hard nipples. It takes no effort at all to fall into a rhythm. To fuck against him, making a slick mess of his chest as she grinds him against her clit. 

“So good for me,” she pants out, smiling down at him, and then grinds against him harder, chasing the friction, and he cries out, holding on tight to her fingers. She wants to come like this. Wants to keep him here, tucked against her, until he comes, too, and see the helpless little shake of his body. Her breath is coming fast now and his whole face is red, and every movement makes him whimper, tiny little high-pitched noises as she uses him as she likes. He's smiling still. She works her hips against him slowly, rubbing her clit against his chest, his hips. 

“Azu,” he says, his voice wavering and then breaking entirely, and then he does come; she can feel his whole body shake and spasm with it, and the movement of it tumbles her over the edge right after him, trying not to squeeze her thighs around him as her whole world fades out into a dazed haze of pleasure for a moment. 

“Are you alright?” she asks after a moment, still panting, and she sighs with relief as he nods. She wants to keep him here, between her legs, her good little pet, but the constant buzzing under her skin has faded out, a little, into something softer, and so she sits up and looks down at him properly instead, her hand relaxing around him. He looks very pleased with himself, and doesn't prestidigitate himself clean right away, because he knows she likes it when he's a little bit of a mess, and so for a moment she just gets to enjoy the flush that spreads from his face all the way down his chest, his mussed hair, his whole torso wet with her slick. 

“Okay,” she says, stroking his hair gently with one finger, and after a pause he cleans himself off with a quick wave of his hand and crawls back up her body to rest between her breasts, safe and kept, this tiny, wonderful little thing that is all hers. She tries not to let herself feel too greedy for it. She's not so sure she's succeeding. 

He drifts off to sleep again after a moment, lulled by the rise and fall of her chest, and she settles back down onto the pillow, closing her eyes. It's going to happen again; that much, she knows already.

*

Hamid is the one who initiates the next time; they're barely back to their quarters the next night before he reaches out for her to hold him close and so she does, bringing him up to her mouth and letting him kiss her, slow and sweet, as deep as he can even with a mouth so much smaller than hers. She wants to kiss him harder, wants to nip at his lips, but can't at this size, and so instead, she settles him down on the bed and starts to strip out of her clothes. She's not been wearing her armor on the ship today; they're passing through quiet skies, and so it seems less urgent to, and so it takes hardly any effort at all before she's naked with him between her legs again. He uses both hands to work over her clit, his lip caught between his teeth as he concentrates, and she shivers with it, squirming as it stiffens between her legs. All at once she has an idea. 

“Hamid,” she says, and he stops, looking up at her, his eyes bright, his hands still wrapped around her. “Do you trust me?” She's not sure if this is going to work, if they can get the angle for it, if Hamid will be able to _take_ it, but she wants, so sudden and sharp it sends her dizzy, wants to see if he's small enough that she can fuck him with her clit, and when he nods, she spreads herself with one hand and lifts him with the other, trying to position him, and he flushes with understanding. 

“I--” he says, staring down at her clit and then down at himself, but he doesn't tell her to stop, and so, slowly, carefully, she brings him down to rest over her clit and then, as careful as she can, begins to feed it into him. He squirms hard, his hips flexing, trying to take it. Trying to let it inside him. It's not huge, for an orc, but it's still so much for him, and even as he whispers for her to keep going his eyes bead with faint tears. 

“My good little one,” she says fondly, and he shivers harder as she pushes her hips up just a little and settles him onto the base of her clit. It's so hot inside him, so tight it nearly hurts, his body squeezing her tight as he shakes and holds onto her and tries so hard to take it. She gives him a moment to adjust; she doesn't mean to hurt him, even as some part of her that she barely ever acknowledges thrills at how beautiful he looks as he struggles. She wants to press him back against the bed and hold him down with a finger as she fucks him, but isn't sure she can keep the angle for it, and so she settles for this, keeping herself spread as, with shaking thighs, he lifts up a little and then sinks back down on her, fucking himself with little shuddery moans as he rolls his hips. “Good boy,” she says, and his moan is louder this time. 

“Azu, please,” he manages, his thighs shaking too hard to hold himself up properly any longer, and so she takes pity on him and keeps him tight in her grip and moves his whole body instead, slowly fucking him on her clit, keeping him as deep on it as she can. “It's so much,” he says, and his voice trembles.

“You can do it,” she says, and she wishes there was a way she could kiss him like this. She can feel him clench around her as she presses in deep, feel the way he spasms as he comes, and she can't help herself when she rocks her hips again, keeping him pinned where he is, making him take more. He looks so good, so desperate, and he squirms so hard with the overstimulation as she keeps fucking him, but he's nodding, still holding on tight to her, not telling her _I can't_ , or _it's too much_. He's so good for her.

By the time she finally comes, he's come twice and gone limp with it, only moving because she is moving his whole body to do it, and he lets out a thready little moan as she slowly pulls out. He rests his head against the curl of her fingers for a moment, exhausted, and she can't help but lean down to kiss the top of his head. He presses up into it, rubbing against her mouth, before slumping back down, and it takes a long while for him to come back to himself enough to form words. She tucks him between her breasts, safe and nestled in, smiling as he wraps his arms around the curve of one, and she strokes down the length of his back with one careful finger, enjoying how thoroughly she's worn him out. 

Maybe next time, she thinks idly, she'll see if he can take one of her fingers inside him. She imagines the stretch of it, the way she might be able to see the shape of her finger through his belly, how he'd squirm and beg and be kept just on the edge of _too much_ as he stretched around her, how she would have an extra hand to pin him down with, then, a finger at the center of his chest to keep him where she wanted him as she told him what a lovely little pet he was, letting her do this to him. A low, lazy curl of heat pulses through her, and she closes her eyes; maybe later tonight. Once he's gotten his strength back. Every part of this makes her want to try more. Wants to push to their limits with this.

She might owe Cel a favor or two on this, accident or no. She still wants Cel to fix it, to put him back to the size he's meant to be, but... maybe another day or two wouldn't hurt.

There are still things to try out, after all.


End file.
